


Of So Divine a Loss

by wendelah1



Category: Stargate SG-1, The X-Files
Genre: Community: xf_is_love, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Post-Movie(s), Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-23
Updated: 2011-06-23
Packaged: 2017-10-20 15:58:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendelah1/pseuds/wendelah1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd regretted the lies to her, but there was a lot more at stake back then. Despite everything, he had kept Scully safe. This time, the very first time he had a headache, as soon as he was certain what it was, he'd told her the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of So Divine a Loss

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [That these could live](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7950253) by [wendelah1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendelah1/pseuds/wendelah1). 



> This is a cross-over with Stargate SG-1; however, no knowledge of that series is need to understand this story. Set post-IWTB.
> 
> My thanks to idella for the brain-storming sessions, encouragement and lightening-beta. Any mistakes that remain are mine alone.

Of so divine a Loss  
We enter but the Gain,  
Indemnity for Loneliness  
That such a Bliss has been.

~Emily Dickinson

 

The last thing Mulder remembered thinking before he entered unconsciousness was that he'd left the stove on. Scully was going to kick his ass if he'd let the house burn down. He wasn't supposed to be cooking for himself anymore. Only the programmed buttons on the microwave were permitted. He agreed in principle, but sometimes he forgot, got out a pan, dumped the can of soup in and set it on a burner. Usually he remembered to turn it off.

The first thing he saw when he woke up was a bright light overhead, which told him he wasn't on the floor at home. Scully must have found him, called the paramedics and hauled his ass to the ER. Dammit. He'd told her not to do that again. There wasn't anything more they could do about the seizures and he was sick of the tests.

The light was so intense it was blinding him. He put an arm up to shield his eyes, then gave up and closed them again. He couldn't see anything anyway. There were no voices or sounds of any kind except a low humming that he didn't recognize. Maybe it was the light source? He tried to say, "Can you turn that off or at least move it away from my face?" But the words wouldn't come. Next he tried to sit up. Something was holding his torso in place but it wasn't a conventional restraint, more like a force field. He wiggled his toes and tried bending his knees. Reaching up he hit something solid. Metallic, maybe. So he was in a metal box, being restrained by a force field, and being subjected to an unknown energy source. _Must be an X-File_ , he thought before he started to panic.

Suddenly he felt light mist exuding a faint floral odor. Within a few seconds, he felt calmer; in less than a minute, he was falling asleep again. _What the hell, I'm not going anywhere anyway._

~/~/~

"Mulder. Mulder. Mulder, can you hear me?"

Antiseptic smells. Firm mattress. Faint beeping sound.

"He's still unconscious. Why isn't he waking up?"

Scully's voice sounded strained. _I'm awake, Scully. I am. Just give me a minute and I'll prove it to you._ He tried to open his eyes.

Another voice, one he didn't recognize. "We still don't understand how the sarcophagus works, Dr. Scully. But Mr. Mulder will wake up, eventually. Just give him some time."

Sarcophagus? That thing he'd been in was a coffin? God dammit! He didn't want to be in a fucking coffin again unless he was dead. Really dead. Surely Scully knew how he felt about that. He tried once more to open his eyes. The angry rush of adrenaline must have made the difference because this time he succeeded.

"Nurse! He's awake! Oh, Mulder." She squeezed his hand, then reached for the call light and pressed it. She had tears in her eyes and looked like she hadn't slept for days.

He squeezed her hand back. "Sorry. Did I burn down the house this time?"

She shook her head. More tears. The worst part about his illness wasn't that he was dying, it was how it was affecting Scully. He looked away from her eyes and up at the ceiling. _Huh._ It wasn't that lovely puke green color favored by the nuns at Our Lady. The walls were the wrong color, too.

There was something he was trying to remember, something he'd overheard as he was coming to, but it was already fading into the expected post-seizure haze. "What's up, Doc?" He tried to lift his arm but settled for nodding. "This... isn't where we usually do our act."

Scully put on her doctor face, the one he figured she used when she was going to tell a young patient only what she thought they could handle. But he wasn't a kid and he wasn't her patient.

"Tell me, Scully. I need to know."

 

~/~/~

 

"When did you first notice the onset of these symptoms, Mr. Mulder?" The physician sitting across the room in front of the computer terminal looked too young to know what he was doing. Besides, he had access to Mulder's medical records and to Scully, so Mulder didn't understand why he was having to answer these questions again.

"The first time or the second time?" Mulder countered.

Dr. Mendez was unperturbed. "Let's start with the first time."

Mulder tried to appear cooperative. Maybe this was another sort of test. "It started in the autumn of 1999. I had severe headaches, they were occasional at first, later more frequent. Dizziness, some problems with my memory. After a week of it getting worse instead of better, I went to see a neurologist. He told me I had a rare condition, a brain inflammation related to a vaccine I'd been given. Maybe reactivated by the impromptu brain surgery I had."

"Brain surgery?" Dr. Mendez frowned at the screen. "I didn't see it anywhere in your records."

"And you won't. But I've got the scar to prove it." Mulder lifted up his hair to reveal the thin raised mark that ran just inside his hairline. "Anyway. It accounted for all of my symptoms. Dr. Bricklin treated me..."

"...with a course of corticosteriods." Mendez nodded approvingly.

"Yes. I'd get better for awhile, then after a few weeks, the headaches would return." Even in excruciating pain, Mulder didn't take anything stronger than an aspirin when he was on duty.

"Despite your illness, you chose to keep working," Mendez said in a neutral tone.

Mulder tried not to sound defensive. "Since there was no cure, I wanted to work as long as I possibly could. I knew there was risk involved in continuing to work as a field agent, but I thought what I was doing was important enough to justify it." Sometime after that, he'd been abducted by aliens, subjected to experiments (thankfully forgotten), buried alive, and woken up cured. He decided to go with the short version. "For unknown reasons, in the spring of 2001, I got better. But my symptoms recurred about three months ago."

"Headaches?"

"Yes."

"Fevers?"

"Yes. And drowsiness, memory loss, eventually seizures." More memory loss.

He'd regretted the lies to her, but there was a lot more at stake back then. Despite everything, he had kept Scully safe. This time, the very first time he had a headache, as soon as he was certain what it was, he'd told her the truth.

There was a sharp knock on the door. "May I come in?" Scully walked in without waiting for the answer.

Dr. Mendez stood up. "Dr. Scully, it's a pleasure to meet you. I've been following your research." He extended his hand. "I'm Alfred Mendez. I'm going to be monitoring your—Mr. Mulder's progress."

Scully shook the doctor's hand. "Are you nearly done? I'd like to get Mulder home by this afternoon." She glanced over, appraising him. "I've canceled my clinic patients but I'd like to make rounds this evening."

This afternoon? So they weren't that far from home after all... Mulder pushed back the covers and sat up on the edge of the bed. Now all he needed were his clothes.

"Oh. I'd understood you were coming on board right away," Dr. Mendez said.

"Scully?"

"No, I'll be continuing to see some patients in the community indefinitely, while I transition to a full-time position here," Scully said smoothly.

"What are you talking about—here?" Mulder tried to keep his voice even, but he'd been left out the loop and he wasn't going to pretend he was happy about it.

"Dr. Mendez, can you give us some privacy, please?" She waited while the young doctor shut the door behind him, then pulled a chair over to Mulder's bed and sat down.

"Mulder, I've accepted a government research position. I'll begin working here full-time just as soon as I can transfer some of my patients to the care of my associates at Our Lady."

"What kind of research? And where is 'here' exactly?" Mulder said, making air quotes. "You still haven't told me where we are."

Scully took a deep breath. "I can't tell you our exact location, but we're in a military hospital. I can't tell you the kind of research I'll be doing, either. It's—highly classified."

Mulder didn't like the sound of this. "Why are you doing this? Does this have anything to do with my illness? Because I don't think you should be uprooting yourself from work you love because you think you have to save me."

Scully frowned. "Let me see. You broke into the DOD and stole government property to save my life. You went to _Antarctica_ to rescue me. And now you're saying I shouldn't change jobs? Even if by doing so I get access to advanced technology that might save your life?"

"Wait." Mulder took her hand and pulled her toward him. "Okay. Maybe I'm out of line. But you understand my concerns. I don't trust the military to have my best interests at heart. Or yours." He put his arms around her, began stroking her hair.

She pushed back and looked up at him. "Do you trust me?"

"You know that I do," Mulder began.

"Then don't fight me on this. It's a wonderful opportunity. It means I'll get funding and lab space of my own. And maybe a cure for you, too," she added, putting her head on his chest. "I don't want to lose you."

"Okay," he said softly. He lay back down on the bed and pulled her down next to him. It sounded too good to be true, which meant it probably was. Assuming they ever let him out of this room, he'd have to try to find out what was really going on here.

 

~/~/~

 

"Well, Mr. Mulder, I believe we can let you go now. We'll have the test results for you when you return for your next follow-up visit, but I have to say, so far I'm pleased." Dr. Mendez shut off the computer. "I'll let Dr. Scully know and put in the order for your escort off the base."

Once a month like clockwork, the military goons showed up and took him back for more tests, always blind-folded, always using the same route. He wondered if they knew he had an eidetic memory. Now that his brain was working right, he was pretty sure he could find his way back there, as long as he could find someone to drive him. Losing his driving privileges had put a real crimp in his Secret Agent Man act. The tests were mostly standard neurology stuff, the same as Brinklin had done. Except for the MMPI, which he hadn't taken since graduate school. He wondered what it was for, but decided not to stress about it.

"Maybe you could wait on the escort until Scully arrives," Mulder suggested. "I'm hoping she'll take me to lunch."

"I think there may be a staff meeting," Dr. Mendez said, picking up the phone.

"I don't mind waiting."

"Mr. Mulder is ready for pick-up. Yes. He'll need escort. Thank you, Sheila." Mendez set the phone down. "I'm afraid it's a lunch meeting."

Scully was busier than ever. Though she'd reduced her patient load, she still kept office hours once a week. Her other days were spent at the Mystery Base, doing whatever she was doing for the military. Periodically, she'd have to go out of town for a few days, where she would not say. But she called every night, so Mulder tried not to worry. She was a research scientist, a civilian contractor. She wasn't on the front lines of a conflict, heading out to Iraq or Afghanistan. The new job seemed to make her happy so Mulder tried to be happy for her and stay out of her way.

Whatever they had done to him with that damn metal box, he felt better than he had in years. No more headaches, no more weakness, even his eyesight seemed better. His knees felt great, too. He could run like he was back in his thirties, like his twenties, even. And sex. God, the sex they were having was amazing. He had so much more, uh, stamina. He didn't know how long it was going to last, but damn if he wasn't going to enjoy it while it did.

So that part of the deal was working out okay, so far.

Intellectually, he understood why she couldn't discuss her work. But that was what their relationship had been built around—shared discussions of the X-Files, of the conspiracy, of his search for Samantha. Mulder wasn't used to the distance that her new employment had put between them. When they had stopped running and settled in Virginia, at least she could talk to him about her medical practice. Even if he hadn't understood the technicalities, he could still listen, offer support and counsel when needed. He could offer none of that now. She did seem happy to see him when she was home, and he was certainly glad to see her. The truth was he was used to being the center of her world, and it appeared that was no longer the case. He was having trouble filling the void left by her absence, and he had no idea what to do about it.

 

~/~/~

She'd been away for nearly a week this last time. They'd kept in contact via an in-house government system similar to Skype, but with better security. He'd tried to trace her IP address without success. Maybe if the Gunmen... Mulder mentally shook himself. Her sleeping quarters looked like they were in a bunker of some kind rather than a Motel 6, but that was all he was able to deduce after six nights of conversation. The credit card charges weren't much more helpful. She stopped at a 7-11 somewhere in Colorado just like always, bought some coffee and didn't purchase anything else until the day she flew back to Washington.

For her homecoming dinner, Mulder had made homemade spaghetti. He'd found a recipe on the internet: a big can of tomatoes, an onion, and a stick of butter. Parmesan cheese on the side. Whoever'd dreamed it up was a genius. Even he could handle sticking three ingredients in a pan. He didn't even have to chop the onion.

She took a bite of the pasta. "Wow. This is really good."

"Thanks." He decided not to mention the stick of butter. He twirled a few strands around a spoon and tasted it. Damn, that _was_ good sauce.

"Mulder, I'm going to be leaving again in a few days."

She didn't appear unhappy exactly as she said this but Mulder could hear something in her voice. He put down his fork and spoon, sat back and waited.

"I won't be able to call you every night."

Mulder sat back up. "Why not?" This didn't sound right.

"The facility where I'll be staying has no cellular service."

"So call me from a landline," he said, with more force than he'd intended.

"I don't know that that's going to be possible—in fact, I'm sure that it won't," she said calmly.

Mulder took a deep breath. He needed to keep it together. "You won't tell me where you are going. Or what you are going to be doing when you get there. Can you at least tell me how long you're going to be gone?" Why hadn't he seen this coming? Maybe he hadn't wanted to.

"Three days, possibly four. It depends on—what we find when we arrive. I'll send a message back to you whenever I can." She had that look in her eyes.

"Three days, maybe four, which will turn into another week." He hated doing this. He knew he was being a shit. But dammit, he hated not knowing _anything_ about what she was doing. He hated knowing that as things currently stood, if something were to happen he'd be powerless to do anything about it.

"It's possible," she conceded.

"Scully. What if I don't want to do this anymore? What if I asked you to quit this job, go back to private practice full-time. I'd rather be sick again than risk losing you." He knew what she'd say, but he had to ask, even if it did make him look stupid and desperate.

She looked down at her hands. "Mulder. You're fine. As far as all of the tests have shown, you're cured."

"You said that once before," Mulder felt constrained to say.

"I know I did, and there's no better guarantee this time around. What I'm saying is that you're free to go. You don't have to submit to more testing or even return to the base. It's your choice. But what I'm doing is important, Mulder. Please don't ask me to choose between you and my work."

He let her go that time, and the next time, and the time after that, because he had no choice, or at least none that he was willing to make. But he refused to sit home waiting for the inevitable phone call. He was going to find out where she was going so that when she got into trouble, he'd be in a position to do something about it.

The problem was how to get the information he needed. After 9/11, searching for the wrong word combinations on Google could land a guy on a watch list, so he'd installed software that was supposed to provide some protection against government spying. He had some online contacts but he had no idea if they could be trusted. As far as he knew, they could all be undercover Homeland Security officers. He didn't have the hacking skills of Langley or the decades of contacts Frohike'd amassed or the analytical probity of Byers. After six years in hiding, his network of allies was depleted, and in any case, since he'd relapsed, his focus had been on his health and on Scully. He needed someone with access, or at least access to someone with access. Reluctantly, he decided to hold Skinner in reserve for an emergency, since he doubted the man would tell him anything unless Mulder gave him proof that Scully was in mortal danger. Only eight years out of the Bureau, and his contact list there was appallingly short. He was pretty sure at least one of those contacts hated his guts, but that well-known antagonism might work in his favor by providing some cover.

He turned on Scully's desktop. Did he really want to do this? Mulder reasoned if he used her account, it would keep anyone who might be monitoring his email and outgoing calls from knowing he was doing some snooping around. It was worth the risk of Scully finding out and he didn't give a shit what John Doggett thought of him anyway. Slowly he tapped out, "Can you come by tonight? I have something I need to talk to you about," and hit send.

 

~/~/~

 

"I've got nothing to say you, Mulder. If you wanted to talk to me, why the hell didn't you just call? And why use her account? You know she'll find out eventually and I don't want to be seen as having any part in it. Plus, what part of 'Top Secret' do you not understand? This project, whatever it is, goes way above my security clearance."

Mulder shrugged. It seemed like a good idea at the time, though now that John was here and being pissy, he was rethinking it. He got up from the sofa and went into kitchen. "You want another beer," he called out.

"Sure."

Mulder took out two Shiner Bocks and popped off the caps. John Doggett would give up his right arm to keep Scully safe, Mulder was certain of that. The problem was going to be convincing him that she needed saving. He handed a bottle to the other man.

"So, you're saying I should just let it go. Let her go."

Doggett set his beer down on the table. "That's right. She's a grown woman, a former FBI agent, and she's perfectly capable of making her own decisions and taking care of herself. Moreover, she's signed a contract which included a non-disclosure agreement. If you want to find out more about her work, maybe you should try a different approach."

"I'm listening."

"So she can't tell you the specifics of her project. What about her colleagues? Who is her immediate supervisor? Who's the Big Boss? Who're the other members of her team? Hell, maybe you should have 'em all over for a barbecue."

Mulder stood up and started pacing. "You want me to be a dutiful wife. You want me to sit at home like a good boy, like Scully's mom did all of those years, waiting for her to return. What if I can't do that?"

"Dammit Mulder. I still don't get what you're so worried about. She's a civilian contractor. She's not being sent into a combat situation and she's not going to be. She's always come home from these trips you're complaining about, with not so much as scratch on her."

"Then where _is_ she being sent for days on end where she can't even make a simple phone call home?" Why couldn't Doggett understand? "I can't trust these people. They used her before, like a lab rat. They used me, too. Hell, I don't have a clue what that metal box they put me in is or how it did what it did to me, but I'm damned sure it's not human technology."

That got Doggett's attention. "So now you're saying there's aliens involved." Though maybe not in a good way. Doggett was giving him a look that reminded him all too much of his early years with Scully.

Mulder chose his words carefully. "I...I don't honestly know. What I do know is she's shut me out of this decision and there doesn't seem to be a damned thing I can do about it."

"I think this is between the two of you. I'm sorry, Mulder." Doggett shook his head. "It's too bad in a way...no, never mind."

"Just say it."

"You were writing a book about the X-Files, before...you got sick again. Maybe you could get back to that, now that you're doing okay. It would be something you could work on with Dana."

Doggett really didn't get it. According to his medical records, he'd just begun losing motor function by the time he'd been abducted back in 2000, but most of his memory had still been intact. But this time, the inflammation had caused too much damage before they stuck him in that box. His brain was healed completely, but the machine couldn't restore the memories he'd already lost. He still had the notes he'd starting making about cases when he was first diagnosed. But he'd been too paranoid to keep a diary and besides, he had had such perfect recall.

He'd tried to piece together his past, using Scully's notes and her recollection of events. "I've been looking through what you wrote about the ___ case. There's something here I don't understand," he'd start out. She'd then give her perfectly rational scientific explanation of what had happened. He'd ask about what his thoughts on the case had been, what he'd submitted to Skinner in his report. She'd try to recall his reasoning, but really, that wasn't her strength. So much had been lost when the basement office was torched. He didn't know what had happened to the records that remained after he and Scully had gone underground. It was beyond frustrating.

"Drop it."

Doggett looked uncomfortable. "Fine, I'll drop it. Maybe I'm outta line here, but you're healthy now, right? You need to get out of this house more. I dunno. Maybe get a job of some kind. You need to get a life, Mulder."

_I had a life. I want it back._

 

~/~ /~

 

If Mulder didn't know better he'd swear his living room was under surveillance.

"We're invited to a barbecue? Why now?"

Scully looked up from her Shredded Wheat. "What do you mean, why now? This is General O'Neill's annual Memorial Day barbecue. The entire staff is invited. Everyone that isn't off--" She shook her head slightly. "Everyone that can attend is expected to do so, along with their families. The invitation has been sitting on the calendar for weeks. But if you don't want to go, I'll send our regrets."

Mulder picked up the invitation and casually examined the postmark. "Yeah, I see it now. No, that's fine. I'll go." Maybe he should do a bug sweep just in case. "Are we supposed to bring something?" Mulder's idea of a useful hostess gift was a case of Heineken but he supposed they could hit Costco on the way and pick up a cheese platter.

~/~/~

Mulder was glad he'd picked cheese over beer, since General O'Neill had provided a keg. He was cooking the steaks himself, which seemed surprisingly down-to-earth for someone with that much rank. O'Neill was unmarried, in his early sixties, gray hair, very trim build. He had no kids, no family in evidence really, except for the people he worked with. He seemed especially close to one couple. Daniel Jackson was tall, light-skinned but very tan, early middle-age, maybe forty, but in great shape. Scully had said he was an archeologist. His friend was a tall, pretty blonde astro-physicist named Sam Carter, who was apparently an Air Force officer. Scully said they'd all worked together years ago. She seemed to think they were all just close friends, but Mulder couldn't help noticing that their body language indicated more than a working relationship. He also wondered what sort of project an archeologist, a physicist and an Air Force General might be doing together.

In fact, the group was an unusual mixture of military personnel, both enlisted and officers, and civilian scientists. They didn't all cluster together either, but intermingled with an intimacy that bespoke of a deep commitment to a common cause. He recognized that intimacy, not because he was such a formidable profiler, but because he'd had it once, with Scully.

Some of the attendees had brought their spouses and there were a couple dozen kids, ranging in age from a surly teenage girl on the brink of adulthood down to a toddler clinging to his mother's leg. One corner of the spacious backyard had been turned into an impromptu softball diamond now populated with a coed group ranging from six to ten, who were being bossed around by a tall, rangy twelve-year-old boy, who was doubling as pitcher and umpire.

Mulder caught an errant fly ball and tossed it back to Michael. "Thanks." When he turned back to his lawn chair there was a woman sitting next to his seat.

"You're Dana's friend. I'm Louise Elkon. Dana and I share a secretary, Alan. The pitcher—Michael—he's my stepson. His dad's off—out of town. Michael didn't want to come but I insisted. There was no way I was leaving him alone in the apartment."

Mulder shook the woman's hand. "Nice to meet you." He wasn't sure what to say next. He didn't know Scully had a secretary. He always got her voice mail when he phoned her at work.

"Dana told me you used to be an FBI agent, that you used to be partners, in fact."

There was no reason for Scully not to have shared that, but finding out that a total stranger knew their history still made Mulder feel oddly uncomfortable. "That was a long time ago," he said finally. He used to be better at this, he was sure of it.

Louise smoothed her blouse down and took a sip of her iced tea. "Michael's an only child. His parents only had the one before Marie was killed. After we were married, Frank and I decided we wanted to have a kid right away, but so far the timing's been off."

Mulder nodded. He knew about bad timing.

He thought about the child they'd conceived by accident, the one she'd given away because he wasn't there to keep him safe. He didn't remember why he'd left them to go into hiding that first time. He didn't want her to know he'd forgotten so he'd never asked. He remembered William's soft head and sweet smell. He remembered holding him and kissing his forehead. Those were good memories.

"What about you and Dana? You two ever think about having a child?"

He remembered handing William back to Scully and the way her eyes looked as he closed the door. He shook his head. "No."

Maybe if they still had William, things would be different. A child would be a reason for her to stay and someone for her to come home to when she was gone. If Mulder was being honest, he didn't understand why she'd remained with him for as long as she had. The person she'd fallen in love with no longer existed.

After they got home, he laid in bed next to her until he was certain she was asleep, then got up, went into his office and turned on his desktop. He opened his browser and typed "Louise Elkon" into the search engine.

 

~/~/~

 

Dr. Mendez put his penlight back in his breast pocket and sat back in his swivel chair.

"How much longer before I'll be allowed to drive again?" Mulder asked.

Dr. Mendez looked at him, considering. "You're licensed in the state of Virginia? The standard is six months free of seizures, but every test we've done says the condition that caused yours is gone." He clicked the mouse and studied the computer screen. "You've been off anti-convulsants for over four months without a problem. Your lab values have been normal, the MMPI—stable." He turned to face Mulder. "I'll write the letter to the DMV," he said, smiling at Mulder's expression. "Why don't you call Dana? I'm sure she'll be pleased to hear the news. Just dial the last five digits..."

Mulder nodded. "Yeah, she would be, will be. I'll tell her tonight when she gets home."

He convinced his military babysitters to drop him off in front of the market instead of at his doorstep. He dialed the medi-van from the produce aisle. By six o'clock the house was straightened, the laundry mostly caught up and the two gourmet frozen enchilada dinners from Trader Joe's ready to pop into the oven. Scully's message from two days earlier had said her plane was getting in at six-thirty tonight and to expect her by nine at the latest. She'd always called before takeoff to give him an updated ETA if needed. Since he hadn't heard from her, he assumed her flight was on time.

At ten, he turned on the television to try to distract himself. If he knew what airline she was on, he could check their flight schedule. If he knew what city she was arriving from, he could check flight conditions. Since he didn't, he had to trust that she'd let him know if anything went awry. So far, she always had. He thought about what Doggett had said: she wasn't in a combatant role, she was a civilian consultant, and tried not to panic.

At midnight he called Skinner, who told him to sit tight and "not to do anything stupid." Mulder thought about his options, which weren't many, given his rural isolation, lack of transportation and complete ignorance about Scully's last known location, and weighed the possible consequences. He fished the barbecue invitation out of Scully's desk drawer and picked up the phone.

 

~/~/~

 

As military lock-ups went, Mulder had been in worse. His jailers had been bringing him meals, though he'd refused them, the cell had a sink _and_ a toilet. He turned over on the metal cot and stared up at the small barred window. There was even a pillow and a blanket. He didn't have to wear an orange jumpsuit and he hadn't been tortured—yet.

The meeting he'd asked for with General O'Neill and his repeated requests to see a lawyer weren't being denied, so much as they were being ignored. He supposed he was going to be left here to rot which suited him fine. If something had happened to Scully, this was as good a place as any to hear the bad news.

He had nothing to do now but think about everything he'd learned about this project. Or everything he hadn't learned. After the gathering at O'Neill's, he'd done a cursory background check on everyone he'd been introduced to, and a few people he hadn't been. The results had been the same for every person: outstanding in their fields, publications, accolades up the ying-yang, and career trajectories that seemed to disappear as soon as they began consulting for the military. Some of the cover stories were suspect, too. Deep Space Telemetry? Yeah, right. The fields of expertise were astounding in their diversity, too: everything from Astro-Physics to Engineering to Zoology. Whatever this project was, its scope was vast, maybe even unprecedented.

Footsteps in the hallway. Was it already time for dinner? Mulder sat up on the cot, leaned back, and folded his arms over his chest.

The door opened. Standing next to the guard was AD Skinner.

"Get up, Mulder. You're coming with me."

"Why are you here? Where are you taking me?" Mulder protested. What the hell was Skinner doing?

"I told them I was your attorney," Skinner said in a low tone. "Let's get out of here. I'm not saying another word to you until we clear the last check point."

Reluctantly, Mulder got up and followed Skinner out of the facility. Two stern-faced military police escorted them past the gate where a black sedan was waiting.

"Get in." Mulder folded himself into the back seat. Skinner sat down in the front and nodded to the driver. "Agent Doggett. Take us back to to Mulder's place."

"Sure thing."

Mulder peered out the back window. Remote location. Lots of trees. A small air field. Unmarked buildings. So this was the Mystery Base. "How did you find me?"

Skinner gave him a look. "I sent Agent Doggett by your place to pick you up. After he told me you weren't there, I made a few phone calls."

"Did they tell you what happened to Scully?" Mulder demanded.

"Not exactly," Skinner said.

"What does that mean?"

"I don't think they know yet."

Mulder closed his eyes. "How did you get me out?" Why hadn't Skinner just left him in the jail cell? There he was closer to the answers he was seeking than he was sitting on his ass at home.

"I asked them what the charges were. As it turns out, there's no law against making baseless threats to expose a non-existent medical device in an unknown medical facility. It's a good thing you're cured, too, because I don't think they're going to be letting you back in there anytime soon."

Mulder had nothing to say to that, at least nothing that he deemed Skinner was ready to hear, so he settled back for the rest of the ride and tried not to think about the empty house that was waiting for him. Sometimes the hours between her leaving and her coming home seemed to go on much longer than logic told him they should. Dammit. She'd been leaving him for years now, beginning when she did her residency in pediatrics. He should have gotten used to it by now, but he hadn't. It was something he'd decided he had to tolerate for her sake. He could have left her in Virginia, gone back on the road, but he didn't. He could have kept on looking for the truth, even if it cost him his life, but he couldn't do that to her. This time he was the one who'd gotten left behind. It hurt. It hurt worse than losing Samantha. It hurt worse than losing Scully the first time.

There was a set of headlights in the distance as they headed up the last quarter mile toward the house.

"Stop the car, block them in," Skinner ordered. "Doggett, get the bullhorn and the shotguns out of the trunk, then cover me. Mulder, stay in the car, get down and stay down."

"How did they get past the gate security," Mulder wondered aloud. "Oh. The military police must have disabled it when they picked me up."

"Shut up, Mulder," Doggett and Skinner said.

"Federal Agents! Stop. Exit your vehicle, put your weapons down and your hands where we can see them." Skinner's voice rang out over the loudspeaker.

The car braked, came to a stop and two men got out. "Teal'c, let me handle this," one of the men said in a low tone. Mulder stuck his head up. He knew that voice from somewhere.

"As you wish, Daniel Jackson," replied the other man. His voice wasn't familiar, but Mulder recognized where he'd heard the other man: General O'Neill's annual barbecue...

"Uh, hi! I'm Daniel. This is my friend, Murray," he added. Murray inclined his head slightly. He was handsome, muscular, dark-skinned, and was wearing a close-fitting hat pulled over his forehead, in the middle of summer. He definitely didn't remember meeting Murray.

"Guys. It's okay. Daniel and I have been introduced."

"I thought I told you to stay in the car." Skinner lowered his weapon, as did Doggett.

"It's my house," Mulder pointed out. "And my driveway we're all standing around on." Mulder felt a wave of exhaustion mixed with anger. "Let's cut to the chase. What do you want from me?"

"Can we put our hands down?" At Skinner's nod, the two men lowered their arms. "Officially, we're not here. Unofficially, we have information for you about Dr. Scully."

 

~/~/~

 

Mulder looked at the three mug shots. These were the men Daniel said they suspected of kidnapping Scully and two other scientists, and killing the airmen who had been charged with their safety. "Who are these guys?"

"They're drug traffickers, among other things. Mercenaries, thugs. All around bad guys. We think they belong to a group called the Lucian Alliance," Daniel said.

"Never heard of it, but then I've been out of law enforcement for some time now," said Mulder.

"I've never heard of them either." Skinner frowned. "What's this about? What would they want with Dana?"

"Dr. Scully is not who they were after," Daniel admitted. "We think this was a case of being on the wrong pl—place at the wrong time."

Mulder picked up the fourth photo. "These are the guys they wanted? What's their story?"

"Dr. Jay Folger is a physicist, Dr. Simon Coombs is an applied mathematician. We are not entirely certain what purpose they were taken for but we believe the Alliance may be planning to launch an attack," said Murray.

"An attack on what? Higher education?" Mulder tapped on the picture of Coombs and Folger. "These two don't exactly look like tactical geniuses."

"The Alliance may believe they hold the key to breaking our defense codes," Daniel explained.

"In the past Dr. Folger and Dr. Coombs have shown a surprising degree of ingenuity in extricating themselves and others from difficult situations," Murray added.

"Really?" Mulder lined up the mug shots in a row, then set the photo of the scientists next to them. "Defense codes? What would these goons do with them if they did get ahold of them?"

"That's a good question, Mulder," said Doggett.

"Why, thank you, John. I used to be an FBI agent, you know," said Mulder. He wondered if anyone else had noticed Daniel and Murray were not answering the question.

"What makes you think the Alliance is responsible?" Skinner asked.

"Hidden video recordings were retrieved from the site," said Murray.

At least that explained why they thought Scully might still be alive. "So where do you think they've taken the hostages?" Mulder asked. For a top-secret project, their security protocols were in dire need of an overhaul.

Jackson and Murray exchanged glances. "There are several possibilities. It is unclear which of them is serving as the base of operations," Murray said reluctantly.

"I assume your people have been over the site?" said Doggett. He glanced at the photos, then over at Skinner.

"Yes. Unfortunately, they found nothing useful," said Murray.

Skinner looked grim. "Which agency is leading the investigation? Who's in charge? Also, I didn't catch what day it was you said they'd disappeared."

Daniel winced. "Yeah, about that. According to the time stamp, it's been over 48 hours. And, uh, Jack O'Neill is in charge of the investigation."

That old guy from the barbecue? "She's been missing for two days and no one thought I should be notified?!" He stood up, nearly overturning the coffee table, then headed straight for the living room window. He stopped short of putting his fist through it, settling for banging his head on the window frame instead. Scully would be pissed if he broke it and it wouldn't do his hand any good either.

"Mulder! What the fuck are you doing!" Doggett pulled Mulder away the window.

Mulder shook him off. "Let go of me!" Holding his head, he turned back to the group. "I want to see the site." He winced. Fuck. That hurt.

"That's--not going to happen," Daniel warned.

"That will not be possible," agreed Murray.

"Then I want to see that tape. You two need to get me that tape, or I will go to the media. I may not know much but I do know where that base is. And you know damn well that coffin thing they put me in is not human technology!"

"Mulder, you need to calm down," Skinner cautioned.

"There is no need for threats," said Murray, not unkindly. "We also wish to see the hostages returned."

Daniel frowned."Yeah, maybe Sam can send the tape to Dr. Scully's email address. I presume you've already got her password."

"I can vouch for that," said Doggett.

Skinner threw him a sharp glance, then looked over at Daniel. "Do it," Skinner ordered. "And, for God's sake, use the landline."

Daniel looked up from his cell phone. "Oh, uh, I've already sent her a text. She doesn't want to email it. Says it's too risky. She'll bring it here instead."

Skinner looked pissed. "Fine. I hope she's better at operating in stealth mode than the rest of your outfit."

"There is one thing you should know..." Daniel looked sheepish. "We should have told you this right from the start..."

"I did say that, did I not?" Murray intoned.

"What?!" Mulder said through clenched teeth. How much worse could it get?

"Dr. Scully does not appear on the video recordings of the incident in question," said Murray.

 

~/~/~

 

Mulder stared at the computer screen. Six times now he'd watched the entire debacle, six times he'd found nothing. He pushed back his chair, and starting massaging his neck with one hand.

"She's not on the tape anywhere that I can see. Well, not during the critical period." He clicked on the rewind icon, then hit play.

"Here's where the guys in the uniforms walk in, take over the lab, and kidnap our scientists. Fast-forward to—here—and you can see more guys in uniforms show up and ransack the place. Fast-forward yet again to another set of uniforms doing search and rescue. I'm guessing those are ours? The bad guys look so much like the good guys I'm having a hard time keeping score. They should at least wear different colored hats." Whatever the Alliance was, in appearance they were more like a private army than a crew of organized thugs.

"Don't we assume she was just taken from another part of the facility?" Skinner said with less confidence than Mulder would have liked.

"You're hypothesizing ahead of the evidence, I'm the one whose supposed to be jumping to conclusions here. Anyway, I don't see how that's possible. There's feed from two sources in every room, plus the entry and the perimeter. Look for yourself." _In the meantime, another three hours have passed and I'm no closer to finding her._

Colonel Carter left after handing him the thumb drive and telling him the name of the file, saying she had orders from her boss to report—someplace else—where she wasn't at liberty to say. Before leaving, she mouthed some platitudes, ending with "no one gets left behind." Right. Murray and Daniel departed shortly after her, also for parts unknown. They all said they'd "keep him in the loop," which he knew meant less than nothing. What made them think they were being kept informed? Daniel had left his cell phone number, which he supposed was a nice gesture.

"For what it's worth, we do understand what you're going through," Daniel'd said, giving him this intense look. Mulder doubted that, but he had bit back his sarcastic reply and said, "Thank you." No point in burning all of his bridges. Yet.

"Look, you can keep staring at the screen if you want, but I'm going into the office try to work this from a different angle. In the meantime, I suggest you get some sleep. Agent Doggett, let's head out." Skinner stood up and headed out the door Doggett was holding open.

"Mulder. Maybe you should try to get some shuteye?" Doggett said tentatively.

"Later, maybe. First I want to re-watch this again, frame by frame, just in case there's something I've missed," Mulder said, keeping his eyes on the screen.

Doggett nodded. "Okay. We'll be in touch."

 

~/~/~

 

Scully was on the tape. Sam hadn't had time or maybe she just hadn't bothered to edit the recording. So there Scully was, in the underground bunker, walking into rooms, walking out of rooms. Drinking her morning coffee. Every time she came into view, he found himself staring at her, wanting to yell at her, shake her. Make her do what he wanted her to do all along. He was so angry at her and all he could do was stare at the screen and press rewind.

He decided the work site was underground because of the absence of windows or anything resembling natural daylight. The lighting never changed, no matter what the time stamp said. Despite the artificial florescent lighting, she looked beautiful. After all of these years, seeing her face still raised his pulse rate. He had a pretty good sense now of what her day was like, even if he still had no idea what she was doing for the military. Only the entrances and exits were monitored on camera. God, he missed her.

He forced himself to watch her walking in slow motion down the hall, opening a door, then disappearing from view. The time stamp was 10:12 am., her last appearance on the tape. He hit pause. He knew Scully was a creature of habit. If she had her coffee at nine, she'd be heading for the restroom by ten. He hit rewind until he could see the door opening in front of her, then hit pause again. It was dark inside as the door opened, then a light came on automatically. All of the switches were like that, an energy-saving ploy, he supposed. Frame by frame he advanced the tape. There! Just before she shut the door in his face, he could see it, over her shoulder, on the far wall. A seat cover dispenser. Maybe she was still there when the first wave of hooligans arrived. When they realized they'd left an important asset behind, and returned to get her, she'd been ready for them. While they were gone, she must have found a better hiding spot because they'd ransacked the place looking for her.

Why hadn't she revealed herself when our guys showed up? Maybe she'd stayed hidden, fearing that they were more Alliance? And how did this outfit of gangsters find this supposedly top-secret site? Maybe it was an inside job? He didn't have enough data to do more than speculate, and surely he wasn't the only one asking these questions.

He dialed Daniel's number. Voice mail. Skinner wouldn't be able to do anything directly, he'd have to go through channels. He started rummaging through Scully's desk drawer, looking for where he'd put the barbecue invitation.

"General O'Neill, please.

"Yes, I know I'm not supposed to be calling this number again but I think I know where to find one of your missing scientists."

 

~/~/~

 

He didn't think this was the same cell he'd been in before, but it could have been. Same window placement, same type of cot, scratchy blanket, flat pillow. Toilet and sink. Mediocre food, served at regular intervals. Same general lack of amenities. It was worth it though, knowing that Scully was safe. He was nearly asleep when he heard the familiar footsteps in the hallway.

 

"We've got to stop meeting like this," Mulder said. He sat up, patted the cot. "Come on in, sit down, take a load off."

"No, thanks." Skinner hesitated. "Fine." He sat down next to Mulder.

"Any news?" Mulder asked. He already knew the answer, but this was how this game was played.

"No. They still want to know how you became in possession of the copy of the security tape."

"And I still won't tell them. Are they going to let me see Scully?" Mulder'd lost count of the number of times he'd asked this question.

"No. I'm sorry, Mulder. There's a lot of politics going on here."

"No conjugal visits. I think my civil rights are being denied." He sat silently for a moment. "How is she?" he asked.

"She's holding up. Back to work at the hospital full-time."

"I wish I could say I felt sorry about that."

"No, you don't."

Mulder smiled. "You're right, I don't." He'd happily rot in here forever knowing she was safe; even if his efforts hadn't made a difference in getting her home, they had directly resulted in keeping her there. "I assume she'll forgive me—eventually."

"You know that Daniel Jackson has also resigned in protest of your being in here."

Mulder was impressed. "No, I can't seem to get the news channels tuned in here." He waved toward the empty wall over the door.

Skinner lowered his voice. "Rumor has it Colonel Carter tried to resign her commission but it wasn't accepted. She's contacted me, wants to testify at your trial," he added.

"No, I won't let her...wait, there's going to be a trial?" Mulder said, feeling worried. The last one hadn't worked out so well.

"Maybe. Or possibly a military tribunal. Mulder, either way, I'm going need to find someone to take over your defense."

"But if you do that, I won't be able to see you either." His visits with Skinner were all he had to look forward to at this point.

"This kind of thing isn't my area of expertise. Dammit. I want to get you out of here. You're not a threat to national security, and O'Neill knows that. I wish I knew what the hell this was about."

Mulder thought he knew what the problem was but wasn't sure if he could explain it. "I think he'd gotten used to a certain level of deference from people he'd grown close to, due to his powerful position and his long-term relationships with them. He thought he could trust them to do things his way. They surprised him. He won't or can't take it out on them, so I'm the fall guy."

"You don't think they were his... lovers." Skinner looked shocked.

"No, not the way you mean, but I think they were really, really close, the way Scully and I were long before we were in a physical relationship. Breaking that kind of bond between people, even indirectly, I do feel bad about that."

"Why do you think they did it? Took the risk, broke protocol. Especially Carter. She probably has the most to lose."

There was no way O'Neill'd let Sam take the fall. "I've wondered that myself. Maybe it's what Daniel said to me. They all knew what I was going through. They'd each lost someone they loved very much, because of the work they were committed to doing. Maybe they thought he'd overlook it." O'Neill had lost someone close to him, too, his young son. "He had a reputation as being a maverick back in the day. I do believe it will all work out in the end, that he'll do the right thing and let me go."

 

~/~/~

 

The cell door clanked open. "Mulder, we're getting you out of here," said Scully.

"What? How?" My God. She was here. He'd been dreaming about this day ever since he'd been arrested.

"That doesn't matter now. You've been released to Skinner's custody," Scully said. "We'll tell you everything on the way home. Here. You'll need this." She handed him his leather jacket.

"Okay." He stood there for a moment, still in shock, just gazing at her. His Scully. She looked just like she had the day she came to bail him out of the brig he was sharing with Max Fenig, her first year on the X-Files. Fierce and protective, and completely in control. God, what a wonderful memory! Even back then he'd wanted to grab her and hug her for coming after him, and now. Now. _Oh, Scully._

Scully was looking at him with concern. "Mulder? Is everything alright?" She put her hand on his arm.

He swallowed hard. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Feeling foolish, he let her help him put on his jacket, and followed her into the corridor where Skinner and the two guards were waiting.

At the entrance to the base, Doggett was waiting in the now familiar black sedan. Skinner got in the front passenger seat, Scully in the rear behind John, so he sat down behind Skinner and tried to rearrange his legs to fit in the available space. She was staring out the side window. He thought it was a safe bet that she was still angry at him.

"Scully," he began.

"You know Daniel Jackson also resigned his position in protest of your incarceration," she said bluntly.

"Skinner told me the last time he visited." Was she saying it worked?

"Jackson contacted me, he offered to testify on your behalf," Skinner said.

"So there's going to be a trial now." Damn. He was hoping this whole thing was just going to go away.

Skinner hesitated. "I'm not completely clear on that point. But not long after his call, I got the one saying you're to be released. It looks like all of the charges have been dropped."

"That's good news." He sneaked a look at Scully. "I guess that means you can go back to your job at the Mystery Base."

She snorted. "Not likely. I have the feeling I wouldn't pass their security clearance this time around."

He'd performed enough background checks to be certain having your lover sitting in jail for three months accused of stealing military secrets from your prospective employer didn't look good on the resumé.

"I'm sorry," Mulder offered. She didn't respond.

_No, you aren't. And I don't want to discuss this any further was the rest of unspoken message._

She was right: he wasn't sorry, not really. The work Scully had been doing might have been important, but she wasn't the only person who could do it. He knew he was a selfish bastard, but he wanted her safe and at home.

So in a way, they both got what they wanted, didn't they? Thanks to the coffin box she'd let them put him in, he was cured of the brain inflammation, he hoped for good this time. She wanted him saved, and she saved him; he wanted to save her, and he—landed himself in jail again.

She'd forgive him, though, just like she always had before. Wouldn't she?

"Thanks so much, both of you, for all of your help and support. The last few months have been much easier because of you." He watched uneasily as Scully hugged first Skinner and then Doggett. She turned to Mulder, holding out her hand. "We'll see you later. Come on, Mulder. Let's go home."

She stood in the doorway for a few minutes, watching as the sedan pulled away. Finally she turned to Mulder and kissed him thoroughly, took him into their bedroom and proceeded to ravish him. They were lying together, enjoying the afterglow, when she said the words he'd been dreading ever since she arrived at the jail. Ever since he'd been arrested, really.

"Mulder, we need to talk."

He didn't want to but he knew he had no choice. He wasn't going to like what she had to say. "Yeah. I suppose we do. You're still angry with me."

She sighed. "No, not really. I've had three months to cool off and think about what you did. About the role I played in this. Mulder, you know you had no right to do what you did. We don't work for the FBI. I'm not your partner anymore. And it's not your job to protect or to save me."

That hurt, even more than he'd thought it would. "That's a hard thing to stop doing, especially if you're a guy like me."

She moved so that she was facing him, took his hand. "I know that. But it makes me feel like you don't trust my judgment, that you don't believe I can take care of myself, that I don't have the right to make decisions that affect my future. I can't live like that. I won't."

He knew it. "You're going to leave me." He'd rather she'd just let him die. It would have been kinder in the long run.

His face must have shown more than he thought. "No, no! Oh Mulder! I could never leave you. I can't believe you'd think that." She put her arms around him, hugged him fiercely.

"What are we going to do then?" It felt so good to have her arms around him again.

"Something we should have done years ago. Mulder, we can talk about aliens and ghosts and even about science, but we don't know how to talk about us. We're going to see a counselor, so we can work on our communication skills," she said decisively.

"So we're finally going to get to build that tower of office furniture," Mulder teased. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. He'd always enjoyed baiting therapists.

"And you're going to see an occupational therapist for the memory loss, the extent of which you never bothered to share with me, and then a career counselor."

Mulder looked at her guiltily. "Um, Scully..."

"Yes, I found out. The Bureau is going to pay for it, too, since it's obviously work-related. You are healthy now and you're free. There are other people out there who can save the planet."

He raised an eyebrow at that line, but she didn't blink.

"You are going to get a life, Fox Mulder."

 

The End.


End file.
